Page 98 of Beautifully Messy
A beat of silence follows, the glances around the table saying more than his words.
“You all hung out?” Ivy looks from me to James. Her voice is light, but the accusation beneath it is unmistakable—wanting one of us to confess. But to which crime?
“A quick bite at the arcade,” Vera says breezily. “I needed to connect with Sydney about one of her shelter cases.”
Margaret takes the opportunity to change the subject and jumps in. “How’s that going, Sydney? Must be a big shift from corporate law.”
I exhale, leaning into safer territory. This is something I can share freely and happily.
“It’s been eye-opening. I’ve always been proud of my career. But volunteering, helping these women rebuild their lives, it’s something I didn’t know I needed.”
The tension in my shoulders eases because this part of my life, at least, feels honest. I love this work. Representing these women? It’s about helping people. It’s not money or living up to someone else’s expectations. It’s all mine.
And it pisses Mason off.
Every weekend that Anna and I pack up to fly out to Rochester is a small act of defiance against Mason’s world of power and prestige, and the last name I was born into. I look over to see him swallow down his thoughts, at least smart enough to know this isn’t the crowd for his rather limited view of my pro bono work.
“That’s sweet of you, Syd.” Ivy’s gaze is pointed. “I didn’t realize you were so involved. How long has that been going on?”
“A while,” is all I say with a smile.
“Maybe I can help with marketing after the wedding, Vera?” Ivy adds, swallowing all the worries and suspicions behind a smile.
“That would be lovely, Ivy,” Vera replies, her voice warm. “Your mom showed me some photos you took. They are beautiful. Do you still get out with your camera?”
“No, I don’t do that anymore.”
“I hope my son hasn’t had anything to do with that. I’ve always told the women in my life to keep something of their own. It took me too long to learn that myself.” Vera’s tone carries weight, her smile gentle but pointed.
“No, it’s not him,” Ivy says. “I…figured my time was better spent planning for the future instead of chasing some silly dream.”
Vera’s gaze sharpens. “Dreams are always worth chasing. You have such a beautiful gift.”
“Not all of us can get everything we want, can we?” Ivy smiles tightly.
The words hit me like a physical blow. I try to hold my brittle smile, but something about Ivy’s voice makes my stomach twist.
“Time for bed, Anna. Santa’s waiting.”
I carry her upstairs on autopilot, my body moving through the motions while my brain spins. I reach for flannel pajamas and try to lose myself in a book. But the words blur, my mind refusing to stop—everything I need to figure out, everything I need to say.
The mattress shifts. Mason sits on the edge.
“Syd, what’s going on?” he asks, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The tenderness throws me off. His eyes are a soft blue, his touch gentle.
“Nothing. Sorry about dinner. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“You know, maybe…” His fingers trail up the length of my leg. “I could help distract you.”
My body stiffens like a lock clicking shut.
“I’m sorry, Mase. I’m exhausted.” I pat his hand, a firm boundary, and turn onto my side, willing him to let it go.
Because that? That isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not ever again.
“Hey, will you talk to me? I’m here. I’m trying. Let me in,” his voice gentles.
“Why are you doing this now? We’ve had plenty of time to talk about what happened. What’sbeenhappening. But you’ve shown no interest, hell, in years.”
